


dismantle. repair.

by seventhstar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A lot of murder, Alternate Universe, Back On My 'Yuuri Having An Extended Mental Breakdown' Bullshit, Blood and Violence, I'm Not Saying I Ruined Episode 10 But I Kind Of Did, M/M, Murder, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: Viktor is standing across the street waving. Despite himself, Yuuri smiles, even as he realizes his shopping will have to wait. He waves back.There’s a man in a white coat behind Viktor.A stranger, except that he’s standing too close. A fan, maybe, or a sleazier member of the paparazzi. He’s raising his hands, and Yuuri opens his mouth to shout at him to not touch Viktor and then—And then there’s the screech of brakes as the car stops, too late. Viktor’s legs are sticking out at odd angles from underneath it. A sheen is spreading across the asphalt beneath him. Like oil. Like blood.





	dismantle. repair.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chessala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chessala/gifts).



> do i love viktor? yes. will i ever stop hurting him? no.

**December 9th, 11:59 PM**

The night before the GPF, Yuuri wakes up to Minako bent over him in bed.

“Wha?”

She clamps one hand over his mouth, and with the other, squeezes his neck so hard it hurts—a sharp prick, a trickle of warm blood down to his collarbone. The room is dark and all Yuuri can see are the whites of her eyes and teeth.

“Mmph!”

“No matter what happens,” she says, “you have to break the loop yourself, Yuuri. You have to break it, or you’ll never escape.”

Yuuri wraps a hand around her wrist, trying to push her away, but Minako’s grip is like steel and she holds him down with ease. She’s panting, Yuuri realizes dimly, even as he struggles.

“It’s starting,” she whispers. “Good luck, kid.”

 

**December 9th, 9:00 AM**

“Yuuri, what do you want to do now?” Viktor asks. Yuuri considers as he uses Viktor for balance while he puts on his skate guards. “I recommend a good night’s sleep to prepare for the short program tomorrow.”

“Don’t be such a model coach now,” Yuuri replies indignantly. “This is my first time in Barcelona, so take me sightseeing.”

In truth, Viktor’s advice is what Yuuri would usually do, and even worse, he didn’t sleep well last night at all. He had bright, vivid dreams and dark, ominous nightmares: a church with soft pure light that fell over Viktor’s face and glinted off a ring on his finger, Minako’s hands wrapped around his throat while he struggled for breath. The dreams had been so intense that Yuuri had woken up with blood on the pillow. Maybe he’d had a nosebleed or bitten his lip overnight.

But this might be his and Viktor’s last day together, so Yuuri ignores the heaviness under his eyelids and winks.

Viktor smiles at him. “As you wish.”

They end up taking a self-guided tour of Barcelona. Half the time Yuuri leads, diligently consulting the walking tour app he downloaded; half the time Viktor does, relying solely on dim memories of a previous visit. It’s a beautiful city, made all the more beautiful by Viktor’s smile. Yuuri’s diet is forgotten as Viktor drags him into a restaurant for paella. Eventually they wander into a commercial area, the street lined on either side with shops.

Viktor is a very focused shopper. It’s all Yuuri can do to keep up as Viktor systematically wracks every store, buying what looks like a haphazard collection of items that Yuuri knows will obey some logic only present in Viktor’s brain.

“Do you think your mother would like this?”

Yuuri squints at the scarf Viktor is holding out to him. It’s very soft. “I guess?”

“Does she get cold?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, I’ll just have it wrapped here…should we buy chocolates?”

“Should I be _eating_ chocolate?”

“Not for you, for the triplets, your sister, the rink staff…”

“Oh.”

Viktor’s buying souvenirs. Yuuri thinks of all the people waiting for them in Hasetsu and has to turn his head away. There’s a point of heat in his chest, like a heart of a candle. He wants to take Viktor back to Hasetsu after the final. He wants to keep him there forever.

“Maybe we should buy some spiced nuts?”

“I can go get them,” Yuuri offers. _And I can look for a present for you._

“Across the street, I’ll come meet you when I’m done. Ah, Burberry.”

Yuuri leaves Viktor to his examination of a long coat. The nut shop is empty, and he quickly buys three bags of different kinds, as well as packet of chocolate covered ones that he has a vague idea of giving to Viktor to eat later. (Yuuri does not think of feeding them to Viktor by hand, and if he does, it’s only for a minute.) Then he goes back outside, wondering what he can buy Viktor that Viktor both wants and can’t get for himself.

“Yuuri!”

Viktor is standing across the street waving. Despite himself, Yuuri smiles, even as he realizes his shopping will have to wait. He waves back.

There’s a man in a white coat behind Viktor.

A stranger, except that he’s standing too close. A fan, maybe, or a sleazier member of the paparazzi. He’s raising his hands, and Yuuri opens his mouth to shout at him to not touch Viktor and then—

And then there’s the screech of brakes as the car stops, too late. Viktor’s legs are sticking out at odd angles from underneath it. A sheen is spreading across the asphalt beneath him. Like oil. Like blood.

“Viktor!”

When Yuuri finally looks away, the man who pushed Viktor is gone.

 

**December 9th, 4:34 AM**

Yuuri wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping, heart galloping. He reaches frantically for Viktor, who is sprawled in bed beside him. He’s fast asleep, one leg sticking out beneath the blanket. Yuuri is reminded, viscerally, of his nightmare—of Viktor crushed beneath a car—and has to bite back a scream.

Viktor’s cheek is warm under Yuuri’s hand. He touches his open mouth, feeling Viktor exhale against his lips. Yuuri still can’t quite breathe—the image of Viktor dead is so clear in his mind, nothing like the nightmares he’s had before that burned away in the morning like fog does in the sun—but he lies back down, clutching at Viktor’s body, and tries to panic quietly.

It helps, a little. But Yuuri is tired and clumsy at morning practice, and when Viktor suggests they go back to bed afterward, it’s so tempting. But Yuuri doesn’t want to let the nightmares control him. He shakes his head and demands Viktor give him a tour.

They walk around the city, Yuuri letting Viktor’s chatter and the sights relax him, until they wander into a shopping area.

“How did you know the scarf was for your mother?”

“Lucky guess,” Yuuri says. He holds Viktor’s hand while the salesperson wraps it for them. “Should we get some nuts?”

“How did you know?”

Yuuri just smiles. He’s not sure himself; probably he saw the store on his way in and only subconsciously noticed it. Or maybe Viktor mentioned he wanted nuts earlier. They cross the street, Yuuri carrying Viktor’s bags for him. Viktor buys several kinds of nuts; he feeds Yuuri a handful as they follow the crowds of tourists towards the Christmas market.

“Do you want some of my hot wine?”

“I don’t really drink before a competition.” Yuuri frowns. “There’s a store here I wanted to stop in…”

“What kind of store?”

Yuuri has no idea, to be honest. He just has a vague feeling that if he walks to the end of the market, he’ll find what he’s looking for. Viktor blinks at him, confused, but he says nothing. The silence is warm, and comfortable.

When Yuuri finally sees the jewelry store’s gleaming storefront, he knows.

“In there,” he says quietly.

He doesn’t dare look at Viktor’s face while he picks out the rings, or when he thrusts his credit card at the salesperson, or when he leads Viktor out and starts dragging him towards the church, away from the ground. But he hears Viktor’s sharp inhale of breath as they approach, feels Viktor stumble as a man in a white coat passing them in the other direction bumps into him. Yuuri steadies him as they climb the steps.

“Viktor,” he begins. The choir singing in the background drowns out the pounding of his heart. “I—are you okay?”

Even in the golden light of the church, Viktor looks unusually pale. “I…” he says, and puts his hand against the side of his ribs, wincing.

It comes away wet with blood.

“No! Someone—someone help—please—”

A crowd gathers around them. One of them must have called emergency services; an ambulance arrives ten minutes later. But it’s too late; Viktor’s already bled to death in Yuuri’s arms.

 

**December 9th, 3:48 PM**

“Viktor, I think we should head back.”

Viktor puts a hand on Yuuri’s forehead, frowning. He pushes back Yuuri’s hair. “You don’t look well, Yuuri. I should have made you stay home and rest.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s my fault, you barely slept. Let’s go.”

Yuuri’s stomach turns over with guilt. He’d woken Viktor up three times in the throes of nightmares, once hitting him in the face, once breaking down sobbing against his chest. Practice after that had been a shitshow. But Viktor, despite the dark circles under his eyes, hasn’t complained once.

Sightseeing’s done nothing to improve his mood. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Yuuri keeps seeing things out of the corner of his eye—speeding cars, glints of metal, splashes of blood—that aren’t there when he looks closer. It’s as if the formless horrors that plagued his dreams have come with him out into the waking world.

“Why don’t you go up and see the view first?” Yuuri offers. “I’ll just sit down here.” The view’s not that impressive, he remembers, before he realizes he’s never seen it before. Another odd thing.

“Well...are you sure? I’ve seen it before, so it’s not that important.”

“No, you should see it.”

“All right. I’ll be right back, okay?” Viktor makes him sit down on the nearest bench, and rearranges Yuuri’s scarf for him, before he heads off.

Sighing with relief—it feels good to sit down, the exhaustion is heavy in his bones—Yuuri leans back and watches the tourists posing on top of the mall. The idea of having to climb that many steps makes him a little ill. All he really wants at this point is to go back to the hotel, eat, nap, and cuddle so that he’s slightly less likely to be a mess tomorrow.

A silvery head appears among the crowd. Yuuri watches as Viktor turns around so that his back is to the railing and poses. He must have asked someone to take his picture. Yuuri imagines him making the peace sign and chuckles.

A car screeches to a stop across the street. Yuuri freezes in a silent, sudden panic. He’s staring at the wheels of the car, the smoke coming off the rubber, half-seeing a contorted pair of legs beneath the bumper. He inhales. There’s nothing there, he tells himself. There’s no one there. Viktor’s up on the roof.

Behind him there is a sickening wet thud.

A child begins to scream.

Heart in his throat, Yuuri makes his way over to where a crowd has gathered in front of the mall. He pushes past the hysterical child, past a couple tightly holding hands, past a man in a white coat. There’s a body lying in the center of the circle of bystanders. It takes too long for him to identify the crumpled corpse in the street as Viktor.

Yuuri looks around wildly at the mass of horrified bystanders, anywhere but at Viktor’s face—mangled by the impact—and sees a familiar face.

 

**December 9th, 9:21 AM**

“So, what should we do today? Tomorrow is the competition, so maybe you should re—”

“Yes! Rest. Rest is a great idea!” Yuuri throws his arm around Viktor. The idea of leaving the hotel makes him feel panicky; the idea of Viktor leaving the hotel induces a raw terror. “Let’s just go up and lie down.”

Viktor keeps his arm tucked protectively around Yuuri’s waist as they make their way back. Yuuri leans against him, grateful that Viktor doesn’t ask him any questions, just takes him back to the hotel and sits on the edge of the bed while Yuuri strips down to his boxers and crawls beneath the covers.

“I’m going to get some ice,” Viktor says, picking up the empty bucket. “I’ll be right back, okay? Try to sleep.”

“Wait—no, Viktor, you can’t leave.”

“Why?”

“Because...I just...I have a bad feeling.”

“I know you’re anxious,” Viktor says gently. “I’m just going down the hall, I promise. Five minutes.”

Yuuri buries his face in his knees as the door closes behind him. They’re just dreams, he tells himself, even as he has a terrible feeling that that isn’t the truth.

Viktor isn’t back in five minutes. Viktor never comes back.

 

**December 9th, 7:45 AM**

“No, you have to stay here.”

“Yuuri, we’ll miss practice!”

“I don’t care! We’re not leaving this room today!”

Eventually Viktor caves to Yuuri’s demands. He stays in the room with him, but Yuuri can feel the tension between them, the anger Viktor isn’t voicing because he’s worried about Yuuri exploding again. That’s fine. If they can just get through today—

Late in the afternoon the window shatters. The bullet goes directly through Viktor’s heart.

 

**December 9th, 5:54 AM**

“Yuuri?” Viktor rolls over and rubs at his bleary eyes. “You’re up early…what are you doing?”

“I’m going through all the followers on your Instagram, looking for him.”

“I—what?”

“You posted pictures when we were sightseeing, so that’s how he’s been following us around the city. We’re all staying in the same hotel; it can’t be that difficult to get people’s room numbers. I bet he’s staying here, too, watching us. Waiting.”

“...Yuuri, what are you—”

“I remember what he looks like now. So if he used his real account, I can find him.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I have to find him so I can stop him from killing you.”

“Killing me?”

“Just sit quietly while I figure it out,” Yuuri mutters. He remains engrossed on his laptop.

He doesn’t realize Viktor has left the room until it’s too late.

 

**December 9th, 9:00 AM**

“We have the rest of the day free, Yuuri. What should—”

“We’re going sightseeing. Come on.”

Viktor doesn’t look pleased. He’s had that pinched look all morning, ever since he woke up to Yuuri staring at him at four am. Yuuri can’t explain it to him; he’s tried it in the last few loops and had no success. He’s tried everything to keep Viktor alive and failed every time.

So now he’s going on the offensive. The man in the white coat, the one who pushed Viktor the first time, the one Yuuri keeps seeing, must be around here somewhere. He’ll have to stay close if he wants to kill Viktor again. And when he makes his move, Yuuri is going to catch him, and he’s going to make him talk.

When he moved to Detroit, his sister gave him a pocket knife as a joke. In five years Yuuri’s only used it to open boxes, but today he puts it in his coat pocket before they go out. He hasn’t been in a fight since he was a kid. He’s never really been a violent person.

But for Viktor, Yuuri is realizing, Yuuri would do things he never dreamed of doing.

“Do you want to stop to eat?”

“Sure. Paella is fine,” Yuuri adds. He’s heard Viktor make the same suggestions so often he’s tired of them. He’s sick of paella, but he can’t risk throwing off the man in the white coat with a deviation from their usual routine. Viktor orders for them both, and Yuuri notices the level of wine in his glass dropping faster than usual. He finishes the glass and immediately pours himself another.

“Are you going to be like this the entire day?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri begins.

“I know you’re anxious,” Viktor says flatly, “but that’s no reason to treat me this way.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Can we please just...” The man in the white coat is sitting at a table in the back, reading a newspaper over a cup of coffee.

Yuuri jumps to his feet. He upends Viktor’s glass of wine; it shatters. The man in the white coat’s eyes meet Yuuri’s.

He flees, cutting across the dining room and into the kitchen. Yuuri follows, but he’s waylaid by indignant chefs. He shoves them out of the way, screaming incoherently for them to move. Finally, Yuuri bursts outside. For a moment he thinks he’s lost him.

Then the man in the white coat steps out from behind a dumpster.

“Who are you?” Yuuri asks. He yanks the knife from his pocket and nearly slices his own hand open. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”

Up close the man in the white coat looks ordinary.  His hair and eyes are brown, his jaw is square, his nose is crooked. His coat is immaculate, considering he’s a murderer. He says nothing.

“Answer me!” Yuuri advances on him with the knife. The man makes no attempt to escape, even when Yuuri jabs the point of the knife awkwardly into the side of his neck. “Why do you keep killing him?”

“Because of you, of course,” the man in the white coat says. “You keep starting over and undoing all my hard work. Your desire to keep him alive is what’s trapped us.”

“I’ll kill you,” Yuuri says. His voice is shaking. “I’ll kill you—then you can’t hurt him—”

“Did he drink the wine?”

Viktor had downed the glass like it was water, drinking away his anger because Yuuri had—

Yuuri rushes back into the restaurant, hoping against hope that the man is wrong, that by spilling half Viktor’s second glass he’ll have saved him. He’s too late; Viktor is slumped over at the table when Yuuri returns. The waiter is prodding him impatiently, trying to wake him so that he can serve their paella.

Exhausted, Yuuri steps back as the waiter takes Viktor’s pulse, finds nothing, and cries out. He goes back outside, into the empty alley, where the man in the white coat was. A sheet of white paper is lying on the ground.

Scrawled messily across it are the words SEE YOU AGAIN TODAY.

 

**December 9th, 2:47 AM**

“What is it?”

“Minako-sensei, please, you have to help me!”

“Yuuri, calm down, you’re not making sense—”

“I’m stuck in a time loop and Viktor is—”

“I can’t help you with that.”

“But—why? Please, Minako-sensei, I—”

“You’re the only one who can do it. You started it, and you have to end it.”

“I don’t...know how…”

“You just have to be willing to do what it takes.”

 

**December 9th, 11:29 AM**

He tries restraining Viktor. He holds fast at first, but Viktor rages, then begs, then cries. Yuuri can’t bear it. He lets Viktor go.

 

**December 9th, 5:03 AM**

_You have to break the loop yourself, Yuuri._

When Viktor wakes up, refreshed and soft and with no memory of who knows how many December ninths have passed, Yuuri bites back the angry retort to his cheerful “Good morning!”

It’s not Viktor’s fault that this is happening. _Today is the last day,_ Yuuri thinks, _one way or another._ He owes to Viktor to make sure it’s a good one.

“Good morning.”

“You’re up early! Ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. He touches Viktor’s cheek with his fingertips. “You’re so beautiful, Viktor.”

Viktor blushes, all the way up to his ears.

Practice goes better than it ever has before. Yuuri skates on autopilot, too disconnected to worry about his performance after watching Viktor die so many times. He barely cares about the Grand Prix Final anymore. He lands the flip at the end, to applause from Viktor, and is almost happy when Viktor reaches over the boards to hug him.

“Should we go back and rest?”

“Nah.” Yuuri leans on Viktor’s shoulder as he puts on his skate guards. “Let’s go out, okay? We can shop.”

Viktor goes from store to store with the determination of a soldier on the march. Yuuri drifts along in his wake, handing him the things he remembers Viktor bought before. The scarf. The nuts. Yuuri’s new suit, which Yuuri allows Viktor to dress him in without protest. Holding Viktor’s hand, Yuuri guides him into the jewelry store, where Yuuri buys two rings. He doesn’t bother with the cathedral this time; life is too short to wait for the perfect moment. He puts the ring on Viktor’s finger right there, before the ink on the receipt is dry.

The sales associate looks a little discomfited when Viktor starts kissing him right there and then. Yuuri doesn't care. This is the last time.

“Come on,” Yuuri says. “I want to to show you something. Something important.”

“Of course,” Viktor says. He trusts Yuuri completely.

They go into the church. Yuuri leads Viktor to one of the middle pews, where they won’t be observed, and takes his hand. Viktor leans against him.

“What did you want to show me?”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Yuuri replies. “But we’re running out of time, and this is the only thing I haven’t tried.”

And then he stabs Viktor in the neck. It’s much hard than he’s expecting; he has to do it more than once before Viktor stops moving. There’s blood everywhere. It’s warm as it soaks through Yuuri’s coat. It ends up smeared across his face as he wipes away his tears.

 

**December 10th, 7:00 AM**

Viktor isn’t there in the morning when Yuuri wakes.

Viktor is always there. It’s one of the constants Yuuri’s been relying on. If Viktor isn’t there, how can Yuuri protect him? How will he find him? Where did he go?

A search of the room confirms Viktor isn’t there, and his phone’s been left behind. Yuuri nearly breaks down sobbing when he finds it. He knows the man in the white coat watches their hotel room. Viktor’s probably already gone.

But maybe he isn’t. Desperation fuels him as he sprints out of the hotel room and then out of the hotel. Desperation keeps him running even though he has no idea where he’s going. Desperation keeps him going even as the morning light burns his eyes and blurs his thoughts.

There’s an important reason he’s out here, isn’t there? Isn’t there something he’s trying to do? Yuuri can’t remember anymore. He has to find, Viktor, though. If he finds him, somehow, everything will be fine.

“Yuuri!”

That voice.

Yuuri runs, blindly, towards it. Nothing else matters.

“Yuuri,” Viktor chokes as Yuuri slams into him, knocking him back into the railing. “What’s wrong? Don’t cry…” He folds Yuuri into his arms. “Did something happen?”

Did something happen? It must have, Yuuri thinks, but he can’t remember. Viktor is here. It’s all right now.

“No,” he says, hiccuping. Viktor presses his mouth to Yuuri’s temple. “I just...you weren’t there.”

“I went for a walk,” Viktor says, pained. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They stand there together for a long time. It’s cold, Yuuri doesn’t have his coat. He’s still in his pajamas. He doesn’t even have socks. Viktor looks him over and sighs.

“What were you thinking, running out like this? How will you skate if you get sick?” Viktor drapes his coat over Yuuri’s shoulders and hands him the gloves he had in his pockets. Yuuri is shivering. He accepts without complaint.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t do it again. That’s my order as your coach.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri repeats.

They watch the sunrise together. The light is beautiful over the water, casting long bright streaks over the grey sea. Viktor holds out his hand, so that the sunlight glints off his ring. Yuuri holds out his hand, too, their fingers brushing, so that their rings shine together.

“Hey,” Yuuri asks. “What day is it?”

“It’s December tenth,” Viktor says. He holds Yuuri close. They stay there until the sun is above the horizon. By the time they begin to walk home, Yuuri’s heart has stopped pounding. He feels silly for running out of the hotel room over a stupid nightmare. He’s just glad Viktor understands.

 

**December 11th, 10:23 PM**

“Minako-sensei, what happened to your hands?”

Yuuri stares at Minako’s fingers. The knuckles are scraped, and there’s dark red dirt under her nails. Minako’s hands are usually immaculate, but today her hands look like she’s been in a fight.

“Nothing,” Minako says airily. She flicks invisible dust off the sleeve of her white coat. “Just had to tie up some loose ends. Go kill it in the free skate, okay?”

**Author's Note:**

> *finger guns* hope u enjoyed it, chessala!


End file.
